


enjoy the view

by xcrossbow



Category: Professional Wrestling
Genre: (very mild tbh), Anal Sex, Face Slapping, M/M, Mild Painplay, NXT UK - Freeform, Slight pining, WWE NXT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 08:27:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17179418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xcrossbow/pseuds/xcrossbow
Summary: And the sex is good. The sex is great. The sex is almost fantastic.Almost, except for one stupid little thing that bothered Fabian. That bothered him just enough to say something.“Why don’t you ever ride me?”





	enjoy the view

Fabian isn’t exactly sure how or why they start sleeping together, but he certainly doesn’t mind it.

 

Marcel is hot. Fabian is not so bad himself, at least in his opinion. They know each other well enough now. And it’s just nice, having someone to fool around with.

 

And _only_ to fool around with. That part was made very clear by Marcel very early on. This wasn’t going to be something more than what it already was. This wasn’t going to be love.

 

It’s just sex. They’re just fooling around.

 

Fabian didn’t ask why it was so conditional. He didn’t ask if there was someone back at home in Germany. He didn’t ask if Marcel was already in love with someone else. That’s none of his business, and Fabian is definitely not one to argue. Especially not when the sex is good.

 

And the sex _is_ good. The sex is great. The sex is _almost_ fantastic.

 

Almost, except for one stupid little thing that bothered Fabian. That bothered him _just_ enough to say something.

 

“Why don’t you ever ride me?”

 

They’re in a hotel room. Marcel is stretched out on the bed on his phone, his long legs taking up a ridiculous amount of space. He’s so beautiful. Fabian can’t get over it sometimes. He looks like a painting. One of those old beautiful famous ones with heroic-looking bodies that were supposed to be representative of angels or royalty or something equally as beautiful and divine. Fabian isn’t a man of many words, but sometimes he wishes he was. Just so he could describe Marcel.

 

Fabian is standing in the center of the room, shirtless and still wet from the shower he just took, staring at Marcel. He wipes off his head with his towel and drops it into a heap on the floor.

 

And then he asks the question.

 

It’s stupid and it’s out of the blue, motivated solely by sexual frustration. But it’s what Fabian wants. He can’t help but ask the question. He can’t get it out of his head.

 

They’ve been doing this for weeks and Fabian has been on top every time. Which is good. Great, even. But it doesn’t seem fair. Not really. So it seemed like such a simple and reasonable idea to just ask.

 

But simple and reasonable are not necessarily traits that Marcel has.

 

Marcel is a smart man, but he’s equally as reactionary. And he always gets what he wants. Especially in bed. Fabian knows this. If Fabian had put a little more thought into the implications of asking such a question of Marcel, he probably wouldn’t have phrased it like that.

 

The way he phrases it in the hotel room just sounds rude.

 

Marcel is the rude one in this dynamic. Not the other way around.

 

Marcel sets the phone down on the bed and looks over at Fabian. He raises an eyebrow, his mouth pressed into a straight unamused line.

 

“What?” Marcel asks.

 

Fabian doesn’t know why he pushes it further, but there’s something about the frustration that seeps into Marcel’s voice that makes Fabian’s blood run hot. Something about knowing that he’s gotten to Marcel, at least a little bit, that makes him want to argue for once.

 

“I’m always on top. Why don’t you ever ride me?” Fabian repeats the question, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

Marcel watches Fabian cross his arms and drops his raised eyebrow. He smirks and shrugs.

 

“You have never asked me to,” Marcel replies flippantly, going back to the phone.

 

Fabian feels his pulse quicken. This doesn’t have to turn into a whole thing, but Fabian is going to turn it into a whole thing anyways. Just because he can.

 

Just to let Marcel know that he doesn’t get to just push him off all the time.

 

“I asked you last time,” Fabian says defiantly.

 

He’s right. He knows he’s right. He did ask Marcel last time, mid-fuck, in the last hotel they were in.

 

Marcel had said no. Marcel had told him to fuck off. Marcel had buried his head into Fabian’s neck and distracted him by sucking a nice, round hickey into his skin.

 

Fabian isn’t going to let him off the hook so easy this time.

 

“It’s just not fair,” Fabian explains. “I give you what you want. This is what I want.”

 

Marcel sighs, long and frustrated. He puts the phone on the night stand and sits up. He looks Fabian up and down, eyes narrow and calculating. He looks away from Fabian after a moment and purses his lips, thinking.

 

Fabian doesn’t move, caught somewhere between being too nervous and too turned on to want to say or do anything else. He just waits for Marcel to say something. His palms feel sweaty.

 

Marcel takes his shirt off and lets it fall to the floor. Casual, barely acknowledging Fabian’s existence. He then stands up and does the same with the shorts he’s wearing, revealing his entire body to Fabian without saying so much as a word to him.

 

Fabian watches him, stunned silent, eyebrows raised. His eyes travel along Marcel’s body, along the perfect mixture of defined muscle and soft flesh. Not too strong, not too thin, with a little extra something for Fabian to grab onto.

 

And pretty. So _so_ pretty.

 

“Well?” Marcel asks impatiently, after a moment.

 

Fabian realizes then that Marcel’s been watching him this whole time. Watching Fabian take in every line and curve of his body. Waiting for him. Fabian feels his face getting hot.

 

He crosses the room to Marcel and pulls him into kiss, hands sliding around his hips and then down to cup his butt. Marcel moves to sit onto the bed, slowly edging Fabian up onto the mattress. He trails his hands down Fabian’s back and stops at his hips with a frustrated grunt.

 

“Off,” Marcel says, pulling at the waistband of Fabian’s boxers and snapping it against Fabian’s skin.

 

And Fabian obeys, sliding them off quickly and moving right back onto the bed. He goes back to kissing Marcel, running his hands down his back.

 

They stay like that for a moment, caught up in each other’s lips. Fabian nearly forgets what he was asking for in the first place until Marcel grunts and pushes Fabian over. Hard.

 

The push knocks Fabian off of him and flat onto his back on the mattress. Fabian exhales, too surprised by the quickness of the movement to really say anything. Fabian isn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this.

 

And there’s no way that Marcel has prepared enough to take Fabian whole right now, even with the copious amount of lube at his disposal. Or, at least that’s what Fabian thinks.

 

But he does, straddling Fabian with ease and slowly letting Fabian enter him. He’s tight, and Fabian can’t help but cry out at the movement, instinctively grasping onto Marcel’s hips to keep him in place.

 

Marcel pushes Fabian’s hands away as he shifts into a better position, working into his own rhythm. It’s agonizingly slow at first, both men gasping for air in a mixture of pain and pleasure, but picks up after few moments.

 

And it’s everything Fabian’s ever hoped it would be, letting Marcel take the reigns and give Fabian exactly what he’s asked for. He’s so beautiful, hair in his eyes and sweat already making the smooth skin on his torso glisten in the lamp light. All of Marcel is working to set a rhythm, moaning as he fucks himself with Fabian’s dick. Fabian can’t help but reach around to touch Marcel’s muscular back, wanting nothing but to feel the slick heat of Marcel’s skin on his own.

 

Marcel swats his hands away this time.

 

“Look, don’t touch,” Marcel tells him, panting as he quickens his pace.

 

Fabian’s mouth drops open, too stunned by the statement to argue. He wonders, after a moment, if Marcel is really serious or if he’s just trying to fuck with him.

 

He tries again, moving one of his hands to squeeze at the soft flesh of Marcel’s ass.

 

Marcel swats the hand away, slapping at his wrist. Fabian swears he growls at him.

 

“Stop it. Just enjoy the view.”

 

Fabian half-laughs at the statement, too surprised to do anything else.

 

“Are you serious?” Fabian asks.

 

He can’t stop himself from blurting out the question. He can’t think straight looking at Marcel like this. Feeling Marcel bounce himself up and down on his dick. He doesn’t know what else to even say. He moves the hand again.

 

Marcel slaps him, but not on the wrist this time. Instead, it’s across the face. Hard.

 

“Don’t _fucking_ touch me,” Marcel says.

 

But it’s not angry. It’s something else. Stern and forceful. Like a command.

 

Fabian’s mouth falls open again, but he’s too stunned to find a single word to say. He touches the side of his face instinctively. It’s tender and warm. He wonders how red the skin is. How much of a mark Marcel made. He can taste a little bit of blood in his mouth, bitter and metallic. He’s never gotten Marcel to act like that before. He’s never inspired so much passion. Part of him wonders if, like a hickey, the mark will last until after this is over. Evidence of the reaction he was able to create from Marcel; of how much dominance he was able to elicit from Marcel.

 

Marcel stops moving for a moment and lets out a short, breathless laugh at the shock on Fabian’s face. He throws his head back slightly as he does so, his bangs falling out of his eyes. His eyes look different now. Still just as beautiful as they were before, but now with a glint in them that Fabian’s never seen before.

 

And it’s definitely just the fact that Marcel has now made him discover a kink he never realized he had, but Fabian thinks he might be in love.

 

“You only get to watch,” Marcel tells him.

 

There’s a pause, both men just staring at one another.

 

“Okay?” Marcel asks.

 

Fabian closes his mouth and nods.

 

Marcel works himself back into a rhythm again, holding himself steady by placing his hands on Fabian’s torso. Fabian obeys the rule Marcel set out and leaves his hands by his side, grasping at the hotel sheets as he watches Marcel ride him.

 

Fabian isn’t really sure how long they stay like that, moaning and shifting against each other in the small hotel room. He gets too caught up in watching Marcel take control, in experiencing finally getting what he asked for in the most perfectly fucked up way possible.

 

Marcel gets caught up in it too, letting his eyes flutter shut as he edges closer and closer to the climax, dripping with the sweat of his effort.

 

Fabian wishes they could stay like this forever, but it’s practically too much for him already as he gets so close that he breaks Marcel’s rule. He grasps at the taller man’s hips, desperate for Marcel to finish him off. Desperate to do more than just view what’s happening in front of him.

 

Marcel moans at the touch, but doesn’t push the hand away, letting Fabian trail a finger along the line where Marcel’s hip meets his thigh.

 

Fabian pauses for a moment then, his hand dangerously close to Marcel’s extremely hard dick. With a grunt of frustration, Marcel grasps Fabian’s hand desperately and slides it along his crotch.

 

Marcel finishes almost immediately after Fabian touches him, covering Fabian’s hand. He moans so loud that Fabian swears it echoes throughout the whole hotel and the sound of it leaves Fabian struggling to hold on.

 

Fabian briefly wonders if Marcel’s going to let him finish inside him, but that dream is quickly crushed by Marcel sliding off of his dick. He instead runs his hand slowly along it, looking Fabian dead in the eyes.

 

“Come for me,” Marcel commands him.

 

And Fabian does, spilling out all over himself as soon as the command leaves Marcel’s lips.

 

As Marcel quickly cleans up, Fabian wonders if he maybe should be a bit embarrassed at how easy it was to fall into submission. At how easy it was to let Marcel make him do exactly what he wanted. At how easy it was to orgasm on Marcel’s command.

 

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Marcel says, sliding back into bed next to Fabian.

 

He flashes him a small playful smile. Fabian rolls his eyes.

 

“Can I touch you now?” Fabian asks.

 

Marcel nods. Fabian rolls onto his side and slips an arm around Marcel’s waist, pulling him closer until they’re chest to chest. Marcel laughs at the closeness and lightly touches the side of Fabian’s face, in the same spot he hit him earlier. He presses a soft kiss to the spot. Fabian tries to bite back a smile and fails, grinning like an idiot as he looks into Marcel’s big doe eyes.

 

He almost tells Marcel how nice it is to touch him. How nice it is to have him in his arms. How nice it is to have these little intimate moments with him.

 

“What?” Marcel asks after Fabian has stared at him for a moment too long.

 

He almost says all those things. But this is just sex. They’re just fooling around.

 

“Nothing,” Fabian says. “Just enjoying the view."


End file.
